


Its gonna be better than yestarday.

by Alnar



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alnar/pseuds/Alnar
Summary: Each day for Dave begins with hope that today going to be better. At this point he has nothing left but this lingering hope. What has he done to deserve such fate? And its just so happens he is not the only one to ask this question.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	1. Who needs you?

Handsome Harold fell on the table with a loud groan, barely restraining himself so as not to throw the damned document to hell. Today was apparently his lucky day, wasn't it?

Next to him lay a giant pile of folders containing candidates for an invitation to the clan. These are mainly bandits and thieves, small fish in general. But they don't really have a lot to choose from and each one needs to be considered. How useful they are, their background, is it profitable to invite them, and so on. And they need new people. Given the emergence of a new leader, it is safe to say that there will be losses on the next raids, no matter how regrettable it may be. And if so, they need to prepare to replenish their ranks. It’s just his luck that he came across a document with such a potential candidate and that he spent so much time on it just to find out that the man has been in prison for 3 days already.

Harold looked with hatred at the pile hanging over his head and mentally cursed all those who promised to help him with this but didn’t. Turning his head to the other side, he looked with quiet horror at the other pile. Oh, it wasn’t huge, like the previous one, on the contrary, quite tiny. But he knows from experience that if a folder is too thick, then it is full of unnecessary data, and if thin, then there is nothing in it and you need to look for information yourself.

“The Prisoners Archive” read a piece of paper lying on the pile. It has not been updated for a long time, they just added thin folders when new prisoners appeared, and those who left were never thrown out. This archive has not been touched by an experienced hand, as long as Harold can remember, and now he fell under the distribution of all this to rake. The Toppat shivered nervously, it’s so much fun looking for information about the dead!

But from lying on the table, this work will not go anywhere, no matter how much he wants.

Closing his eyes, Harold took a deep breath and picked up the first folder from the pile at random. He tried to get comfortable in the chair, opened document and screamed internally when he was greeted by one sheet of A4 paper less than half full.

\----

Name: Dave Panpa.  
Age: 21.  
Height: 187 cm.  
Job: Museum guard.  
Date of capture: April 17, 2013.  
Reason for imprisonment: Learned about the plans to steal the Tunisian Diamond by Gene Fredrickson. Saw him meeting with the toppats and was caught on the spot.  
Camera: J-13.

\----

That's all? He stayed on the ship for almost a year and that's all they could find out about him? They didn't even attach a photo! Caught the Jackpot on the first try! Either they forgot to fill out his folder, or, most likely, people just didn't give a damn about it.

Harold grabbed the bridge of his nose. More than anything in the world, he was irritated by this type of neglect. It looks like he'll have to forget about sleep. Of course, Handsome could just fix the typos and leave the folders as they are, but he didn’t take a position on the information team because he did his job backhanded. And he is not going to stoop to the level of those who made up this mess.

Having created a new document on the computer and quickly rewriting the existing data, the toppat began collecting information. A quick Google search revealed that he was a police officer in the Red Mesa prison and was fired as a result of some kind of official negligence. What exactly is not specified. After that, he got a job at the museum, where the diamond theft took place. A week after that, Dave went missing. The date of the loss and the date of the capture coincide, so at least they were not mistaken about that. But this information was somehow not enough and it caused an unpleasant feeling. To find out more, he needs to either hack and look at government files, or interview the prisoner himself.

Harold had no doubts that he would have to talk to him. In order to remove personal curiosity, even under the pretext of updating the archives, they will not risk trying to hack the government's database. Especially when Dave was nearby. Jail Cell J-13.

Before going to meet him, Harold decided to try to find more info and was greatly disappointed. There was practically nothing about the inmate on the Internet. The found social page was practically naked of anything useful with a small list of “friends”, most of whom, when examined, are likely his former classmates and colleagues. So there was nothing else left.

Having loaded the found photographs into the document, taking with him a notebook and Kohaul's camera, Handsome Harold went to the prison compartment.

Cell J-13 was at the very end of the corridor. On the way toppat met Floyd Winters and he reluctantly, but agreed to wait for him to see that the prisoner did not try to escape. As it turned out, this was not necessary.

Despite the installed sink, the sour smell of an unwashed body was flying in the cell. When was the last time he was taken to the shower? One of the walls was almost entirely covered in chalk white stripes. Where could Panpa have gotten the chalk from? Dave himself was curled up in a fetal position on the edge of the bed, turning his face to the wall. He used his jacket as a blanket, and a wrinkled, tattered cap with the words "Security" covered his eyes. Was he not given a pillow and blanket? The whole sight looked rather sad, as if he was simply forgotten here.

Handsome took out camera and took a picture. The noise and bright flash of the camera caused Dave to jerk in surprise, and it was enough to make him fall to the floor. Slowly and absent-mindedly, he looked at Harold standing in the open passage. Floyd came to the noise and stood behind him. Under the gaze of the two overhanging toppats, the prisoner quickly crawled away and pressed himself into the corner of the cell. He tensed with all his weakened body to what would happen next and did not take his eyes off the arrivals.

Did he expect to be beaten? How often did this happen? With a gesture Harold asked Winters to step away from the door and went inside. The prisoner had evidently calmed down due to the reduced number of people, but he still did not move and continued to look at him with unblinking, scared eyes. In this state, it will be difficult to talk to him. He needs to defuse the situation. Therefore, Harold tried to look as friendly as possible.

"Mr. Panpa, I assume? My name is Handsome Harold. I am updating the archives and I need to ask you a couple of questions. Could you get up off the floor?"

Dave's eyes widened at what he heard, after which he exhaled deeply. Had he been holding his breath?

Leaning awkwardly on the wall, he got up, and only now was Harold able to fully appreciate how rumpled the prisoner was. His once white t-shirt was covered in various stains of dirt and sweat and was torn in several places. Black trousers were in a similar condition. Boots had been taken off and were most likely now lying under the bed. Long black hair was greasy and tousled in different directions. Face looked a little thin and pale, his cheeks were decorated with light stubble, and eyes were red from insomnia or tears.

Handsome stood in the middle of the room, hanging the camera around his neck and preparing a notebook. Dave continued to silently stand in the corner, hiding his hands behind his back, and tried to look anywhere, but not at the toppat. His gaze rested sadly on the cap and jacket lying on the floor next to Harold.

"Let's start simple. Your name is Dave Panpa, right?"

Dave silently continued to look at the hat. Harold pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, quickly losing patience.

"I asked a question, don't make this work harder than necessary."

The prisoner jerked and tensed. Great, only that was not enough. At this rate, they'll stay here for a few hours, and that's the last thing he needs right now.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Harold lifted cap from the floor and handed it to Dave. He just stared at him awkwardly.

"I just need you to answer a few questions about yourself, nothing more. The sooner we finish here, the better."

Panpa looked a little more before taking the hat. He put it on so that the visor covered his eyes.

"T-thanks. Y-yes ... my name is Dave Panpa ... but you already know that .... Maybe."

His voice was dry and soft, almost turning into a whisper at the end.

"It was a formal question for show. But your file is practically empty, and quite a few things are not known. For example, you worked as a police officer in a prison, but were fired due to negligence. Can you explain what your negligence was?"

The prisoner's face twisted as if he had just eaten a lemon. Apparently a very sore subject. Not surprising. Harold hoped he didn't have to use force to get that answer out of him. Panpa looks bad enough. Therefore, he could hardly restrain himself so as not to breathe a sigh of relief when he spoke.

"T-the criminal received a package ... I ... I gave it to him ... without checking what was inside ... and he escaped."

This wasn't what Harold expected, so he let his eyebrows rise in surprise. But the prisoner said nothing more.

"I see. Next question. The report says you learned of the Mr. Fredrickson's plans and tracked him to a meeting with the clan members. How did you know that?"

"I… I was j-just doing the job. He often went to the museum and held a meeting there. I just ... heard a noise ... where it shouldn't be ..."

"I see, is that all?"

"Emmmm, huh? It's all…"

"Did you live with anyone?"

"What?" The inmate stated and leaned forward, a worried expression on his face. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Relatives, loved ones, friends, pets?"

"N-no. I live alone, and animals are prohibited in the apartment, but honestly I don't see where this question is ..."

"To make sure no one is hunting us."

As Harold wrote down the answers he received, there was a deadly silence in the cell.

"T-t-they w-will come for me ..."

Handsome stopped and looked up at the prisoner. His eyes were completely hidden behind the visor of his cap, and a timid smile froze on his face.

"Who's going to come?"

"T-they ..."

"Who are they?!"

The toppat raised his voice a little and took a threatening step forward. Panpa pressed himself against the wall with all his might. His lips wavered, but he tried desperately to keep smiling.

"S-s-s-someone-n-n-n-n-noticed my absence ... S-som-meb-b-bo ..."

He looked pathetic. His entire body trembled, and his voice became a quiet, barely audible whisper. Tears started running down his cheeks. There was nothing more to learn from him now, not while he's in this state.

Handsome Harold dropped his hands, sighed and left the camera, pausing only for a minute, thinking whether to take another photo for the file, but abandoned the idea of taking a photo of Dave while he was like that.

Winters was waiting right outside the cell with puzzled look on his face.

"I don't know what you did back there but it just broke J-13."

"I've done nothing, Floyd. He was already like that when I went in" 

"You sure? I haven't heard him cry before you entered. Aren't you supposed to be The Master of diplomacy?" Winters gave a friendly push on the shoulder, with a little snicker. "Relax a little will ya? We have better things to worry about than prisoner and your gloomy face wont do you any better."

Handsome just continue walking in silence not feeling now to explain why this scene was so distressing to think about.

For the next several hours, Harold could not get the prisoner out of his head and only tried to finish his work. After a long search, he was able to find out that there was only one statement about Dave's disappearance from his employers a week after the abduction. That someone was really looking for him, but it was neither family, nor friends, nor work colleagues. They were just the people from the communal services demanding that he pay the rent for his apartment. This happened a few months ago, and all his things were thrown away long ago, so Panpa did not have a home where he could return.

It was all too depressing.

Deciding that he had had enough for today, Harold leaned back on the table. Already feeling a dream approaching, his gaze fell on the incompletely parsed files with candidates for an invitation to the clan.

"So, nobody needs you?"


	2. Course of actions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday's short conversation between Dave and Harold has big consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gears started to turn. The change is coming.  
> *** - jump in point of view.

The first thing Dave started to realize then he woke up was how much his back and neck hurt. With aching pain came feelings of numb limbs and dry throat. Opening his eyes with difficulty, he saw the edge of the bed and the black jacket lying on it. Last night he didn't have the strength to get up from the floor and fell asleep, huddled against the wall and crying quietly. Now his entire body protested and refused to move.

Trying to straighten up himself, stabbing pain pierced his arms and legs from which the prisoner fell face forward and froze, waiting for it to pass. A few minutes later, Panpa moved his hand uncertainly. It seems like it was over.

A new day has come. It was necessary to hope that it will be better than the previous one.

First of all Dave took out the chalk hidden between the wall and the bed and drew a new line. Almost the entire wall was decorated with them and looked like a white forest. At times, he thought about drawing something other than lines, but quickly abandoned the idea under the pretext of saving chalk, which became less and less every day.

Hiding the chalk back, Panpa leaned on the sink. It was necessary to somehow put himself in order. There was no mirror in the cell, but he knew he didn't look good. Turning on the water, the prisoner put his hands under the cold stream and tried to somehow wash his face and arms. He refused to wash his hair, since sitting in a cell with a wet head threatened to catch a cold and it was not yet a fact that he would be treated.

Having gone to the toilet and finished with the hygiene procedures, Dave stood by the door and listened. The only thing he could hear were the monotonous sounds of the propellers. There was no one around. Shouldn't they have brought him food? Maybe he woke up too early. It was difficult to keep track of the time in the cell. Or… 

Remembering yesterday evening Dave shivered. He pissed them off and now they decided to deprive him of breakfast, right?

Panpa sat on the edge of the bed and hugged himself. Everything is fine. At least he can speak out loud for now.

"I'm alive and that's good. They give me food ..." He stared towards the door. "Usually. And that is good." His shoulders ached with pain, and Dave hugged himself tighter. "I have a bed and do not have to sleep on the floor. That's good." His gaze slid over the remaining things in the room. "I have water and a toilet. That's good." He looked sadly at the wall filled with white lines. "My chalk has not yet been taken away. That's good..." Panpa remembered Harold’s eyes full of pity. "Yesterday someone tried to talk to me ... And that's good. I have not lost my mind. That's good. Somebody is probably looking for me ... And that's good ..."

***

The Witch grabbed Matthew Norbert by the shoulder, preventing him from running ahead.

"But why do we need a safe made of gold? This makes no sense! Gold is a soft metal and is easily deformed, and safes are needed to guard gold. Not the other way around."

"I don't know, but trust me, it WAS in the hangar." The young toppat brushed her hand away, but slowed down. "I saw it myself. There should have been records about this in the archives."

Matthew walked to the door and held the card over to the reader. The Witch stood in front of him with her arms crossed.

"I can't think of wasting all that gold on casting a safe." She entered the opened door. "Besides isn’t it ... Oh." The long haired toppat became quiet when she saw a dozing figure at the table.

Handsome Harold fell asleep, leaning uncomfortably on a pile of files that threatened to collapse at any moment. Maybe she should have woken him up, but several reasons made her gesture to show Matthew that he should be quieter. First of all, Harold needs a break after so much work. He has worked well and deserves sleep. Secondly, if they try to wake him up, stacks of documents will fall on him. This clearly won’t please him. And finally, maaaaaaaybe she promised to help him sort them out, and then forgot about it. The Witch doubted boiling decoctions would be a good excuse.

At the girl's gestures, Norbert just shrugged his shoulders and went straight to the shelves with documents. After waiting a little on the spot, she followed him, rounding Handsome in a large arc. Maybe if she helps Matthew find this file, then there will be more chances to sneak away from here.

The filing racks were neatly sorted and alphabetically arranged. The Witch enjoyed reading various historical documents in her spare time, given how far the clan's history goes. And, unfortunately, she often switched to them when she had to read something else. Therefore, having become interested in the file with the inscription: “Elizabeth the First,” she did not notice how her colleague had already found what they needed and began to flip through the pages.

"TEDDY BEAR!?"

Behind them there was a crash of falling piles and an irritated groan. The Witch turned slowly and saw that the contents of the folders were scattered on the table and on the floor. And also how irritated Handsome Harold looked at them. He looked like he hadn't slept in two days. It was clear in his eyes that he was up to something. Heck.

"Meredith ... How nice to see you finally come." Handsome seemed to sing slowly. A predatory smile froze on his face. "Isn't it too late? But don't worry; I have a couple of things that I'm sure you'll be happy to help me with."

He got up from the table and carefully took a small pile, which by some miracle remained intact. With confident steps the hatter came up and loomed over the Witch.

"I need you two to complete a number of tasks." Harold handed the stack to the woman, who reluctantly accepted it. "This also applies to you, Matthew, so listen carefully." Handsome took a step back, turned around, snapped his fingers, and walked back to the table. "This is a list of candidates to join the clan. It must be given to a superior. This list includes a prisoner from cell J-13." Handsome sat down at the table and quickly began typing something. "It is imperative to obtain permission for his admission from the command. The prisoner himself must be sent to the shower. Complete cleaning in his cell. Moreover, you need to take the camera back to Kohaul." He paused for a moment looking around the room. "Also all this mess in archive needs to be sorted. I don't care who will do what, but all of this must be done today. Questions?"

Norbert and the Witch looked at each other and stared at the pleased Handsome at the table. Poseur. It's not fair how he remains so charismatic with such a shabby appearance. He knew that he had every right to issue orders, rank and everything else, but still ...

"Yes," She said. "What's the deal with the prisoner?"

"And why is it necessary today?" Matthew intervened in conversation. "We're a little busy here."

"Heh, you see, I have a number of reasons why he should be included in our ranks ...” Harold’s gaze was briefly directed nowhere. "And I don't think I have the strength to explain it all right now. Maybe later ... But! To add to your desire to complete it on time and not forget, I can suggest something." He pressed the print button and handed the resulting sheet of paper to the bearer of the sharp hat. "Witch, I can arrange a date for you with the Earrings."

A blush appeared on the cheeks of the long-haired toppat, and her face expressed disbelief and amazement.

"I know that you fell for her for a long time, but you still can't find the opportunity to talk to her. I will give you the perfect chance, and I even know what to give her." Harold smiled slyly. "Limited offer."

The toppat went up to Norbert and put Kohaul's camera in his hands. "And about you, I'm sure that we can ... Agree on something." Harold turned around with a dramatic wave of his scarf and made no comment on Matthew's flushed face. "And now I apologize, but I need my beautiful sleep or I’ll start to see alternate realities. Good luck."

After these words, the senior in rank left the archives, leaving them alone to deal with this mess. Silence reigned in the room.

"I'm carrying documents!"

The Witch had already run with the folders to the exit, not giving Norbert a chance to respond. The simplest task is to pick and get a date as a gift. 

This was the best course of actions.

***

Dave heard sounds of approaching footsteps outside the door. Maybe he was wrong and they will still give him something to eat today? Doubtful, it sounds like there were several people walking.

The door went up and the first thing Panpa saw was the barrel of a gun pointed at him. Oh. Well, is this really his end? He didn't even think about moving, or even resisting. For such a long time, his body was weakened and could be easily twisted.

Two toppats stood outside. One is young, small in stature, with black hair and a gray hat raised high. In his hands he held a walkie-talkie. The second was much older, but only slightly taller. A tousled gray mustache, a short haircut, almost completely hidden behind a large black hat. He held the weapon.

"Out, Guard-dog" The senior commanded and took the muzzle to the side.

Dave swallowed a lump in his throat and slowly walked towards the exit. The main thing is not to panic. Maybe they just decided to make a check and find his chalk... Yes, it should be so. He didn’t do anything worthy of being shot. As far as he knew.

The little toppat looked into the camera and said something into the walkie-talkie. What exactly Panpa could not hear. He tried to focus on the surrounding voices, but his gaze constantly fell on the gun pointed at him, and his ears rang out with rapid heartbeats. God why is it so loud?

He seems to have been told to follow the man with the walkie-talkie. Is this not just a cell check? Feet felt like cotton, and barely obeyed. Dave tried to walk and felt the ship sway a little. God. Of course it's nice to get out of the cell and warm up, it can't be that bad. Down the hallway. Several people passed by. Their faces quickly faded from memory. A corridor with light blue walls and many windows. The outside is light and cloudy. The sounds of breathing are loud in the head. He try to look forward and under his feet so he doesn't stumble. Dave feels the gaze of a man on his back... a toppat with a pistol. Step. One more. It's a good weather today.

Stopped.

Dave looked up at the sign near the door and felt as if heavy fettering chains had just dropped from him and only a cool void remained in their place. "Shower". They decided to send him to the shower...

With relief, Panpa dropped his shoulders, which turned out to be tense all the time, and pressed his lips into a thin line. God. And was it necessary to take a gun? He restrained himself so as not to squint at the escorts. This is not the first time he has been allowed to shower. He was accompanied then. But not at gunpoint! What did they think he would do that would require shooting? He can hardly stand on his feet anyway. He thought that... that his... God...

Dave was allowed inside. When the door closed behind him and he was left alone, all the tension seemed to disappear. Hearing has returned to normal, the motion sickness has practically ceased, but it won’t be any better on a flying ship. He loved the shower, as strange as it sounds. Here he is given the most freedom. If he tries to use this to escape, it will be worse for him. Everyone understood this, so they let him go. There is no getting away from here.

It didn't look like his camera in any way. Spacious, wide, light walls and creamy ceiling. The floor was covered with white heated tiles. A number of washing machines, several of which were in full swing. Lots of cabinets and shelves with detergents, clothes and fresh towels. Several enclosed shower cabins. Now everyone was empty. A couple of sinks along the large mirror. Hair dryers were missing. A large electronic clock hung over the entrance.

Panpa wrapped himself in one of the loose towels, walked over to the washing machines and folded the dirty clothes into the first unoccupied one. His hand froze over the start button. It's... It's not normal. Doing such mundane things in such a situation. He shouldn't feel comfortable, but here he is. Makes things look good. Dave didn't want this to be the norm. He's not stuck here forever... He doesn't need to get used to it... He just needs to wait.

And press the button.

The prisoner looked at the clock. He stood over the washing machine, silently panicking, for 7 minutes. A complete drying cycle will take 3 hours. There is time to take care of himself.

Dave took a complete set of shower products from the shelves and went into the nearest booth. Panpa turned on hot water and closed his eyes. The sound of the shower drowned out the hum of the propellers, and the rocking of the ship was almost not felt. Now he could imagine that he was at home.

Dave stayed like this for some time, enjoying the warmth and calmness, trying to drive away the annoying, frightening thoughts that he could not remember the color of the wallpaper in his apartment. They certainly couldn't be red... Panpa opened his eyes and took a bottle of shampoo. He doesn't have much time.

When he finished, almost two hours had passed, although it seemed that it was not, but the clock kept saying the opposite. No one knocked on the door and did not demand that he leave. Maybe he will be able to dry out to the end before returning back... To the small... Dark... Cell...

Dave shook his head. He needs to think now about anything, just not about that. Panpa went to the mirror to examine himself. He didn't want to admit that the face looking at him in the reflection was his. Sunken cheeks, pale skin, tired eyes with large dark bags under them. Very thin stubble has formed on the cheeks. Once upon a time, the short hairstyle has become long patches. They grew somewhere about ten centimeters and were long enough to constantly go into the eyes, but short enough that they could not be put behind the ears or collected in a tail.

He ran a hand through his hair and noticed a couple of gray hairs on his temples. A choked laugh escaped his throat. He was not even twenty-five years old...

Dave turned away from the mirror and his gaze fell on an old comb with stiff bristles lying on one of the shelves. It turned out to be quite painful to use it, but it is not yet a fact that it was the instrument's fault, and not his unkempt hair, and there were no other alternatives.

Slowly brushing his hair, he continued to think about home. Yesterday's conversation didn’t go out of his head. How are his parents, friends, coworkers doing? Are they still looking for him or have they already stopped? No, they still have to... but who? It was difficult to remember the names of who might be looking for him. Rupert? When Dave saw him last time, he climbed high up the career ladder and, it seems, was going to join the army. Lucky. But he must have a lot of worries without him... Who else? Hardly museum workers. He stayed there very little and did not have time to get to know anyone there normally. Although... Who was there? Jackie Ross ... No, Jacob Rose. Yes. It sounds more correct. He was about the same age as him. Easy to talk. Who else? Kurt ... It was pretty uncomfortable with him, to be honest. But not as uncomfortable as with the toppats. Also Ted. He, too, recently took a job at the museum due to an accident at an old job. Something to do with a criminal and a bank. Who else, who else? In that short time, Billy and Conrad always took up joint duty, he even envied them. Cliff spent more time on smoke breaks than on work. Zach told him in detail about how everything works in the museum and even gave him a full tour. The computer games exposition was quite original. Panpa have never seen anything like it in other museums before. Zach later with a loud voice woke up Todd who was guarding it and...

The squeak of the washing machine made Dave jerk up, but the mood did not deteriorate from returning to reality. A pleasant warmth remained in his soul. Despite all the circumstances, he remembered them. Even if he forgot what the walls or ceiling of his house looked like, the memories of people did not disappear. He remembered the faces of his parents, the voices of friends, and the time spent with his colleagues. Dave has never been a braggart, but his memory for faces and names has always been great. And now it doesn't hurt to raise his self-confidence a little after everything that happened. Panpa walked over to the washing machine and took out his clothes.

A faint lavender scent emanated from them. They seemed to be completely dry to the touch, but now they were a little harsh. Spots except for the largest ones have practically disappeared. The whiteness of his shirt came back. Some holes and torn seams were larger, but all within normal limits. Once Dave was offered to change clothes for new ones, and he refused. These are his clothes. They are one of the last personal things he has left, and toppats will probably just throw them overboard, just give them a chance.

He slowly ran his fingers over the “security” lettering on the cap before putting it back on his head. He was done with putting himself in order and no one has knocked on the door yet. Dave looked around and, taking a deep breath, went one more time to carefully check all the drawers and shelves. Maybe he can take something with him.

Toppats sometimes forgot various things in the shower. Like how he got his chalk last time. It was unpleasant to steal, but it was even more unpleasant to be left with nothing. Besides, even a little, but Panpa felt that he had not yet completely lost control of his life.

He wanted to take a brush, but unfortunately it was too big. On the shelves there was nothing but towels and various bottles of cleaning agents. Trying to take this with him is stupid.

Dave stopped for a minute and thought. Where would be the best chance to find a forgotten thing? Exactly!

Panpa bent down and ran his hand under the washing machines and, luckily, he groped for something. In his hand was a small metal cylinder with a tiny button on the side. Clicking on it on the wall highlighted a red dot. Laser pointer. Working. It was a real treasure!

Without thinking twice, Dave put it in his right shoe. The toppats have never checked them yet. The prisoner sat down on a bench and closed his eyes. There was nothing else to do here, and he himself was not going to tell anyone about it. Let them wonder if he's finished or not. He was in no hurry to return back.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door and it immediately opened. In the doorway stood the same young toppat who had escorted him here. He looked at Dave with displeasure.

“Come out. We finished there."

What?

Panpa followed him out of the shower. Outside, to his dismay, the same toppat with a gun was waiting for them.

Coming back was not as unpleasant as going from there. Even the weapon pointed at the back was not so much intimidating. They walked in silence, at a calm pace and had the opportunity to look around. Dave did not want to start a conversation with them, and on every occasion he tried to look out the windows they passed. It was now about midday and the sky was a pleasant azure color. Somewhere below under the clouds was his home...

When entering the room with cells, the smell of chemicals hit his nose. It was especially strong near his camera. Did they clean his cell? The door opened invitingly, and Dave got into a stupor on the threshold. He didn't want to go back. Never. But a strong push in the back made him take a few steps forward and the door closed behind him with a loud click. The good mood disappeared in an instant. Panpa took a few steps into the room, feeling that something was wrong, but could not figure out what.

The smell of cleaning products was flying in the air. There was a fresh sheet on the bunk. The pillow and blanket were never given. The walls were dark red, cherry-colored, glistening a little. His chalk notes were erased...

Panpa ran back to the closed door. "Wait!" The words somehow escaped by themselves.

The Toppat stopped and turned sharply. There was a mixture of surprise and irritation on his face.

"What do you want?"

"How ... H-how long have I been h-here?"

"How long?" He was silent for a minute. "I'm not sure. About eleven months plus a week or two."

"Ah." Dave stepped away from the door and lay down on the bed, facing the wall. "So I made a mistake in the notes..."

***

This was the worst course of actions.

The Witch stood in front of the entrance to the infirmary, leaning against the wall and not daring to enter. Why did she get this option? Whyyyyyyy?! Just carry the documents and persuade the prisoner's permission. It sounded so simple, but noooo!

The new leader, Stickman or Stickmin, was doing something in his room and refused to let her in, sending her to the next in command. Coperbottom was sitting in his office, the entire floor and table of which were littered with various files, maps, documents and photographs. He looked even more tired than Harold, and the Witch doubted that this was possible. He refused to accept more documents and said to hand them over to his right hand. And now she was standing in the hallway, trying to postpone this meeting as much as possible.

The toppat won't lie, she was afraid of him. The Right Hand Man was a terrifying person. Gloomy, silent, always following Reginald on his heels. She had never seen him relaxed or smiling. Although, to be honest, she tried to avoid him. Maybe he was smiling and she was not lucky to find something like that, but it was hard to believe in it.

Other colleagues told the Witch that he looked more like a torn piece of meat than a man when he was urgently carried to the first-aid post. And the last time passing by this room, she heard unbearable screams of pain, which she still could not forget.

She really did not want to meet, let alone talk to him. It's not just about instilled fear. Right Hand Man was impossible to read. On his face, almost no emotion was displayed. If it was easy to understand when your conversations annoyed Coperbotom, with Right Hand Man you don't know until the last moment. And how to negotiate with him? What if he doesn't want to take a prisoner into the team? Moreover, if he breaks at her, if she insists? Maybe she should give up this idea? But the date with the Earrings...

The Witch groaned, looking through the leaflet with the reasons for accepting the prisoner into the clan, so kindly written by Handsome Harold.

\-----  
List of reasons for accepting Dave Panpa into the clan:  
1) He stayed on the ship for almost a year. He has no connections to be used as a hostage exchange. His maintenance and retention consume resources that he can repay as a working unit.  
2) Has a police training and skill set. They are likely rusted over so long beeing locked up, but they can be restored with simple practice.  
3) After conducting a full check of his personal file, not a single case of his interference in the affairs of the clan was found, except for the case with the Tunisian diamond, and even then, judging by the words of the prisoner, he had not the slightest idea that the toppat clan was involved in this. Integration into the ranks of the clan should not cause a negative reaction from the rest of the organization.  
4) The prisoner has nothing left in civilian life. No one is looking for him, and the apartment was sold due to non-payment of rent. It will be more profitable for him to stay in the clan.  
5) You don't need to send anyone anywhere to recruit him. He is already on the ship.  
6) Free labor.  
As a reward for completing this request, I arrange Witch’s date with the Earrings.  
Signed: Handsome Harold.  
\-----

The toppat took a deep breath as she made her decision. Doors often don't read access cards on the first try. If it does not open now, then this is a sign that she should leave this business for later. Yes. It will be better this way.

She brought her card to the castle and held it aside. An unpleasant squeak was answered in response. Well, apparently it's not mea...

The door opened and the owner of the room, Dr. Blank, stood in the doorway in front of her. He was looking at something on a tablet and almost collided with a taken aback criminal.

"Witch?" The doctor stopped in front of the woman and raised an eyebrow. "Do you need something?"

"Um, yes. The Right Hand..." The long-hair toppat said awkwardly, looking behind the doctor's back.

Blank folded his arms. "More specifically? Does it hurt? Itching? How long ago did it start?"

"What? No, no, I'm not talking about myself. I need to give these documents to Right Hand Man for review." She felt very uncomfortable.

He shook his head in understanding and stepped aside to let Witch into the room. The doctor went out into the corridor and closed the door behind himself.

The medical bay was fairly spacious and well lit. The walls and ceiling were painted white. The entire right wall, except for the far edge, was occupied by cabinets with various flasks, books and medical equipment. After them, an old TV was installed almost under the ceiling. A doctor's table was located near the entrance on the left side. On it were several folders and a computer that had been put into sleep mode. Four beds were perpendicular to the left wall. On the side of each of them was a bedside table. The entire far wall was occupied by a large panoramic window.

The only patient at the moment was lying on the second bed from the window. If earlier the behavior of the Right Hand Man reminded Witch of a robot, now this resemblance was also physical. The left side of his face was wrapped in bandages from under which metal plates and a red glow were visible. His right arm, now completely mechanical, laid motionless on the bed. The top sheathing was removed, leaving the wires and hinges for everyone to see. Several hoses protruded from the limb and went down somewhere behind the bed. The bedside table was pushed to the side and in its place were medical devices that were now turned off. The bed to the right of the Right Hand Man was littered with various equipment and tools, and the bed to the left was littered with various papers, files and a jacket left by someone.

The cyborg silently turned his head towards the newcomer. The girl shivered under his gaze. Whatever happens.

"Right Hand Man, sir... I have brought the documents of the candidates to join the clan." The Witch paused to see the elder's reaction. He just continued to look at her. It was already difficult to read him, but now it seemed impossible. The girl cleared her throat. "The chief said to bring them to you. He was busy so..." She paused again as she heard an exasperated breath from Right Hand man. The toppat leaned back on the pillow and closed his one eye. And what does that mean?

The Witch stepped closer, trying not to trip over the wires on the floor. Where should she put her documents? On the bed?

"Should I leave them here or read them aloud?"

"No. I can read 'em myself." The cyborg's voice was hoarse but confident with metallic echo. "Come ‘ere." He tried to raise himself on one hand and glanced angrily at his legs hidden under the covers. Have they been replaced too? How much is left of a person in him?

The woman froze near bed and couldn’t decide. Should she try to help him get comfortable, or would he consider it an insult? Better not to take risks.

A couple of minutes later, the man was able to move into a half-sitting position and the long-hair toppat quickly gave him the entire stack. He put it on his lap. The Witch took a deep breath. She just had to fulfill her last request.

"Sir, there is one more thing that needs to be done." The toppat hid her hands behind her back and began nervously fingering the ends of her hair. “One of the candidates is a prisoner from our ship. It requires a special permit."

Right Hand Man just glanced at her and returned to looking at the documents. And what does it mean?

"You see ..."

"Dave Panpa, camera J-13" Cyborg interrupted her. "Even though I’m blind in one eye, I’m able to view the records myself. Wait a bit."

Well, shit. Time moved incredibly slowly as she waited for the senior commander to respond. It seemed as though several hours had passed, although in reality it shouldn't have been more than ten minutes.

"’mmm" Finally held out Right Hand Man. "So far, I see no problem to issue ’im permission. Did ’e volunteer ’imself or what?"

"I honestly don't know."

"You don’t know that… In any case, when there will be an opportunity I will formalize it officially in the form of a document or somethin' like that, but for now I will say it in words. I give permission."

The woman nodded and headed for the exit. The task is completed, it's time to receive the long-awaited reward.

"’ey."

The Witch froze in the doorway. Something else? "Yes?"

"Good luck on a date"

She turned sharply and saw that Right Hand Man was holding a piece of paper specially given to her by Harold. Oh.

The toppat ran out into the corridor, hoping he hadn't noticed how quickly her face turned red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter finally out and took much more time then i expected. At times I thought about posting it as two separate chapters but decided against it. Hopefully the next one wont be so long to make. At lest several more chapters would have jumps in points of view but it would mostly going to be Dave's.  
> If you see any errors or have any tips let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> So it begins. I have a lot of notes for future paragraphs and already making second chapter. Dave needs a break and who knows maybe criminal organization is exactly what he needs. This story follows RPE timeline. Its my first fanfiction for this fandom and basically its a translation from Russian to English. If you see any errors let me know.


End file.
